


The Other Iron Maiden

by peachykeen66



Series: The Other Iron Maiden [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt No Comfort, Implied/Referenced Torture, Imprisonment, M/M, Witch Trials
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-23
Updated: 2020-09-23
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:53:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26612527
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachykeen66/pseuds/peachykeen66
Summary: At this point, he knows their routine. The men would usually begin torturing them in front of the other, dragging out death for as long as physically possible. This time however, the kept moving Nicolas towards the door. A pit began opening up in Joseph’s chest.“Where are you taking him?”-OR-What if Joe and Nicky were imprisoned during the witch trials instead of Quynh and Andy?
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: The Other Iron Maiden [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943923
Comments: 12
Kudos: 230





	The Other Iron Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> Hiya, so it’s been a crazy few months and I haven’t written anything in eons, but this short little idea was nagging me all day. So, if this is sorta shitty pls ignore it.
> 
> I tried to do the proper research/translations, but I’m only human. If I make any mistakes let me know and i’ll fix ‘em right away!

Drops of rainwater dripped down the prison walls, puddling under their feet. One landed harshly against Nicolò’s cheek, causing him to flinch ever so slightly. Yusuf chuckled lightly at the sight, much to Nicholas’ dismay.

“You’d think for such a luxurious place, the walls would be leak free.”

Joseph smiled wider, shaking his head. “Especially for such prestigious guests, such as ourselves, ay habibi?”

Nicolas smirked nodding his head, leaning closer onto the other man. It had only been about five weeks since he and Yusuf lost their game of chance with Andromache and Quynh and headed west to prevent more innocents from being falsely tried as witches. It has only been about three since they were gutted and caught awakening minutes later by the Deacon of a nearby church. Despite their many attempts to say otherwise, it proved useless trying to convince dozens of Catholic worshippers that two immortal men,  _who were_ _very evidently in love_ ,  were neither demons nor witches sent from hell.

If someone during the first week of their imprisonment were to ask, Nicolas would say the worst part of the whole ordeal were the many creative executions that he and Yusuf went through. Hanging, crushing, beatings. One priest attempted to burn Yusuf alive nine days in, leaving Nicolas to weep as he caressed his lover’s body, curls growing back around his scalp, skin melting onto bone as fast as it had burned away. Now, close to a month in, Nicolas would say the anticipation was the worse offender; huddling together as close as their chained hands would allow, fearing what type of pain the other would be forced to endure.

Despite the metal cuffed on their arms, the two made sure to keep close together, intertwining their feet and bumping against the others forehead. Yusuf would makes jokes and tell stories of his past, of before Nicolas—before the crusades. Nicolò would describe the meals he plans on cooking for them once they are rescued and settled back into civilization.

“ _It’ll be a biggest fish you’ve ever seen, cuore mio. Drenched in lemon and oil, with the perfect amount of rosemary rice dressed around it.”_

Another drop of water landed against Nicolò’s face. He sighs, shaking his head slightly.

“The rain really has it out against you, hayati.”

Nicolas smiled. “No more than usual, it would seem.”

The wooden door across the cell opens, startling the two out of their conversation. The head priest, a short, balding man wielding a wooden cross, enters. A few other men follow close behind, armed with extra chains. Neither immortal speaks, opting to observe the situation for now. The priest did not say anything as he got closer, eyes flickering back and forth between the two men. Finally, he puffs his chest out, nodding towards Nicolò.

“Get him up, we need to finish this quickly.”

Three of the men stepped forwards, grabbing Nicolas. They unlock him from the wall, yanking him upwards. Joseph snarls, kicking out at the men’s legs, cursing them in a language he knew they wouldn’t understand. At this point, he knows their routine. The men would usually begin torturing them in front of the other, dragging out death for as long as physically possible. This time however, the kept moving Nicolas towards the door. A pit began opening up in Joseph’s chest.

“Where are you taking him?” The men did not answer. “ _Hey!_ Answer me, where are you taking him?”

A moment later, Yusuf would get his answer. The door opened, revealing a large iron maiden, cold solid metal with only a small opening at the face. For a second, Joseph felt his brain shut down because, this wasn’t right.  _This wasn’t happening._

“ _No! Yusuf!”_

_It was really happening._

Yusuf stood up, arms yanking him back against the wall. “ _You can’t! Nicolò! Nicolò!_ ”

Nicolò shoved against the men holding him to no avail. He dug his feet into the dirt below him and kept turning to face his other half.

“ _Yusuf! Yusuf, no! Amore!_ ”

Joseph began screaming, tugging against his chains begging Allah, begging God, begging  _anyone_ to stop this from happening.

“ _Nicolò! Nico, habibi, guardami!_ ”

_Please my love, look at me. Never take your eyes off of me._

As always, Nicolò does as Yusuf asks. He shoves his shoulder against the man holding onto his left arm and turns towards Yusuf, trying to run back to him. Tears are falling from Nico’s eyes, and Joseph cannot remember the last time he had seen his moon cry in such a way. He has a striking realization that those tears falling from his blue-green eyes may be the last image he’ll have of his lover. Not of cheer and delight next to a fire with Andromache and Quynh. Not of love and adoration as the two of them lay tangled together, bare bodies pressed so close together, they cannot tell where one ends and the other begins. It would be of terror and grief and heartache. It makes Yusuf want to burn the whole city to the ground.

“ _Ti amo! Yusuf, cuore mio!”_

_“Nicolò! Please, Nicolò, no!”_

The men haul Nicholas around and shove him inside the open coffin, quickly swinging it shut. The dull  click  of the lock sliding into place was drowned out by Nicolò’s banging against the metal. At some point, Yusuf stopped saying anything of importance and just began screaming, tearing the skin from his wrists in an attempt to flee, to cut every single one of these men down who  dared  take away what was his. Yet, that is what they do. They roll his heart away, ripping the other half of his soul out off him as if it were _nothing_. As if Nicolò were  nothing.

Yusuf screams and rips into his flesh long after the coffin is out of his sight. He screams into the empty air for hours and manages to kill two men with his legs alone after they attempted to unlock him and hang him outside for all those to see.  _It’s what they deserve for thinking it a good idea to separate us._

He screams himself hoarse until his throat is healed, and then starts all over, hoping his madness will make them change their mind—will make them bring Nicolò back to him. He doesn’t get to test his theory because a mere two days later, his sisters arrive, weapons drawn and bloodied. Yusuf can’t move. They were right there, he and Nico were  _so close_.  Quynh crouches next to him as she unlocks his chains.

“Joseph, where are they keeping Nico?”

He shakes his head. He can’t answer her.

“Did you not see where they put him?”

_ I know where they put him. I’ll  never  _ _forget where they put him._ He didn’t say anything. How could he? He had failed his heart. He failed Nicolò.

Andromache kneels down and holds his cheek. He doesn’t want her asking. They all know he won’t be able to refuse her if she did.

“Yusuf, look at me.” He does, and can’t help but admire the sheer determination in her face. She plans on saving her brothers, and when Andromache of Scythia is determined to do something, she follows through without failure. He can’t lie to her, even if he wanted to. “ _Where’s Nicolò?_ ”

_Trapped. In pain. Heartbroken. Lost. Gone forever._

“I don’t know.” Yusuf sobs digging the palms of his hands into his eyes and weeps. “ _I don’t know.”_

Later, after he slaughters every single vile man in that prison and washes off the last few weeks of filth and grime and blood from his body, the three of them board a ship headed towards the British Sea in order to find his other half. In order to find Nicolò, who was currently being  _drowned_ over and over again. Yusuf just prays that Nicolò knows that he is looking for him. That he will not stop looking for his heart until he pries him out of that metal box himself.

Even if it takes a millennia, Yusuf will find Nicolò.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading folks! Hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
